Susie Was Always Right
by Silly Lily 17
Summary: I never thought I'd say it, but Susie was right. She knows the real me, and she knew I hadn't been me since we left Havana. That's why she's made me go back. I left my heart in Havana and she sent me to find it again.
1. I Left My Heart in Havana

**_Susie Was Always Right_**

**_----------------_**

**_1. I left my heart in Havan_a**

I left my heart behind in Havana. We returned to St. Louis when the revolution happened, and since then, I've been attending school.

Radcliffe wasn't all it was chalked up to be. The people were dull and the school itself felt lifeless. Or maybe that was all just me. I'm sure if I had never moved to Havana I would still have found Radcliffe as good as I had been expecting it to be.. but I _did _ live in Havana, and there I figured out exactly who I was and what type of woman I wanted to be. Radcliffe no longer fit into that ideal description of myself that I had produced over the first 18 years of my life. It's amazing how in just a few simple months your entire outlook on life can completely change.

Regardless, Radcliffe was dull to the new me, but you couldn't exactly consider me _unpopular_ there. I had my own small tight-knit group of friends. I did, however, still feel somewhat alone constantly.

I never told my friends about my past. They only knew that I had once lived in Cuba for a few months, and our family left when Batista fled the country. Us gringos were not longer wanted, and I think that is somewhat understandable. It is their country, and they shouldn't be pushed aside by the rich American socialites who had come to live there. After all, for the most part, the Americans were very disrespectful to the locals. They didn't deserve that at all, let alone in their own country.

I was different though. I'm not saying this to make myself come across as some sort of impressive civil-rights activist, but more so because it is true. When I moved there and began to experience the real Cuban culture, I fell in love with it. The music, the city, the dancing, the ocean, the people, the whole atmosphere of it was amazing. Not to mention the guy I fell in love with. I really did leave my heart in Havana. And I left it with him.

I haven't seen him since my last night in Havana. I haven't even heard from him. For months, I tried writing.. but I never got a response.

I tried to move on. The first few weeks were the worst. I wasn't sure if I should expect to hear from him or not, and I think my heart broke a little more each day when someone would gather the mail and there wouldn't be a letter in there for me. I remember Daddy's face every morning when he'd come back into the house with the mail and he'd see me peer around the corner, face hopeful. No parent likes to see their child hurt.

That's partially why I eventually started to repress my feelings. My parents had other things to worry about than their daughter's no-longer-existent love life, and I had to start thinking about college, _not_ Javier.

Eventually, the pain became less noticeable. And until recently, it had become quite bearable. Being away from home, and at Radcliffe with my new friends meant there was no one who really knew about my time in Havana. Of course, there was the occasional question from a friend, something like "What did you do while you were there?" or "Did you meet any one?" or "Weren't you afraid to be alone in the city?"

"Not much," I'd say. Or "No, I didn't meet anyone." and "I didn't go into the city alone."

Eventually, my new friends stop asking. As far as they knew I had a boring and uneventful time in Cuba. They didn't even know I'd learnt to dance there. Actually, I doubt they even knew I could dance. I can't think of a single time I mentioned it.

Everything was becoming fine. I thought I would be alright. Thinking of Javier was like thinking about an old childhood best friend you'd lost touch with. The memories were there, and you wouldn't forget them, but there wasn't too much pain. And of course, there was always some sort of deeply-buried hope that one day you'll see each other again.

Susie had been right all along. For ages I had dreaded seeing her, because of the looks she'd give me. That girl is surprisingly perceptive. Susie knows the real me, and she knows that the real me hasn't been around since the night we left Cuba. She's always tried to mention returning to Cuba. She's always been right about it too. It's what I need.. although I'll never actually admit it out loud.

I, of course, was too stubborn to listen to Susie and realize what I'd done to myself. I've become a shell of who I used to be and I know that I need to change. I've decided to listen to Susie, and to head back to Havana. There, I could find my heart again, and find my soul.


	2. The Gift

**_2. The Gift_**

Susie made a bold move on my birthday. She trapped me alone in the kitchen at our parents house. I knew from the moment we were alone in there that it wouldn't end well. Susie never mentioned our time in Cuba to me when our parents were around. The few times she'd tried it, the death glares from my parents shut her up. They were too afraid that I'd sink back into the depressive state I was in when we first came back. To them, I'd gotten better. It's only Susie who knew the truth.

But this.. this trapping me alone in the kitchen with her, was such a Susie move. Every so often whenever we were together, she'd pull me away from the others to a secluded place. Sometimes she didn't even say anything to me. It was just the looks she would give me. Sometimes it was knowing glances whenever our mom brought up dating, or it'd be subtle arm jabs whenever mom commented on the politeness of a boy my age.

This time though, I knew she'd talk about it. And I really didn't want to look at her, because I was afraid. I felt like some how, Susie could read into my soul whenever she looked into my eyes. Some sort of stupid sisterly connection, I guess.

"You can't run from this forever, Katey," she said.

I didn't answer. I couldn't answer. I knew she was right, and I there was no point in lying. I've never been that great of a liar anyway. It's a wonder I managed to have my parents fooled when we were practicing every night for the dance contest. Having James lie too helped, I guess.

My silence wasn't exactly going to shut her up though. Susie kept talking.

"You're doing a shit job at pretending." Susie never swore. All the more reason to be afraid of her at the moment.

"You're going back. Don't argue with me. You need this."

And then.. It was done. Susie pressed a plane ticket into my hands and my resolve broke. Everything I had worked so hard to bottle up came spewing out like a broken damn. It felt like I was 18 again, leaving Javier in Cuba and heading back to American, but this time, I also felt hope. Just enough hope to get me through the plane ride to Havana. The moment I had the ticket in my hand I knew my mind had been made up for me. I was going back. I couldn't not.

"Consider it my birthday gift to you," she whispered, and I pulled her into a tight hug.

Susie left me alone in the kitchen with my hands wrapped tightly around the ticket, and for the first time in a long time, I actually let myself cry.


	3. La Rosa Negra

_**3. Havana**_

So. That's how I got to where I am today. I'm sitting in the waiting area of the St. Louis airport. I've got the plane ticket Susie gave me clasped in my hands. It's become a bit crinkled since I got it. I've developed this weird habit of taking it out when no ones around and staring at it. It's like I'm expecting the printed words on the ticket to jump out at me and give me some sort of indication as to whether I'm making the right choice or not.

I have no idea what to expect, and I'm absolutely terrified. I'm afraid I won't be able to find him, but I'm also afraid that if I do, I'll find he's moved on. Maybe I'll find out that that is why he never replied to my letters. What if he was killed in the revolution? What if all this time I've been waiting for him he hasn't really been here anymore? The thoughts make me sick to my stomach.

There are so many 'what ifs' that I could go on for ages. I've been fretting over them since the day I came back to America, and over time I have only thought up more.

It seems all too fast that I'm walking onto the plane and I've found my seat. The flight seems even shorter. I spent most the time looking out the window and wringing my hands. What if he doesn't want me anymore?

It's dusk outside when we land in Havana. The sky makes the city look even more beautiful than I ever remember it being. Susie has been so generous to go through with all of this for me. She probably got dad's help too, since I found a cab waiting at the airport to take me to the same Hotel that we stayed at when we lived here, and the cost was apparently being covered by my dad for "However long you feel the need to stay, senorita" the man at the desk said. The suite seems much bigger than I remember, although that might be because I have it all to myself now. It's weird how lonely it feels, and yet it's still comforting. Cuba is very different from American. I feel more at home than I have in the last three years.

A part of me wants to stay here tonight, and crash. I'm afraid to go out into the streets tonight. Not necessarily because of any possible threats there may be, but because I'm afraid I might not find what I've been looking for. I'm afraid that I've built this whole thing up in my mind to seem better than it actually was.

But I am here for a reason, and now that I'm here I can't resist going through with it. It's a Saturday night, and as Javier once said,

"_The best dancers are at La Rosa Negra, Saturday nights."_

There's no other place I could possibly find him tonight, so I drop my bags and dig through my clothes to find a dress.

By the time I reach the front desk and asked for a cab to the club, I'm shaking. I'm actually terrified of seeing him with someone else. But I'm here now, and I find it surprisingly easy to take those few steps from the cab over the threshold and into La Rosa Negra.

I can't see him when I arrive. The bodies of those on the dance floor are pressed so tightly together that I find it hard to make out a single person's face. I'd almost forgotten the unique way their bodies moved together, feeling the music. _Almost_ forgotten, that is.

Rather than force my way into the crowd of dancers, I took up a seat at the bar and ordered myself a drink. The bartender gave me a curious look as I ordered in my miserable attempt at speaking Spanish. I smiled back at him nervously.

"I recognize you," he said in broken english.

It takes me a moment to process what exactly he's said to me, over the loud music.

"Oh! I lived here for a while a few years ago. I used to come here often." I guess I've jogged his memory, because recognition dawns in his eyes and my mood is immediately lightened.

"Yes!" he smiled broadly. "You used to come here an' dance with Javier!" His smile grew immensely when I nodded, and he puffed out his chest proudly. "I always said you would come back for him."

"You did?"

"Yes, I've told him many times."

"Is he here?"

"Of course," he nodded. Then, he spun around, barking orders at another bartender, and then turned back to me. "The Queen of La Rosa Negra does not pay for her drinks."

The second bar tender pushed another drink towards me and grinned. I was surprised. The people here had really remembered me, and they were accepting me. And from the way it sounded, the odds that Javier _had _waited for me seemed to be getting better..

The first bartender had disappeared somewhere in the crowd, and I turned to look at the newer bartender.

He's younger than the other, and I don't recognize him from before. He leans forward onto the counter top, elbows resting on the bar and his face in his fists.

"I have heard many stories of you, Ms Miller," he smiled. "You are still Queen, you know." His English was much better. "The regulars here at La Rosa Negra hold a lot of respect for you and Javier for doing what you did for his family. After you left, it was decided that they would not crown another as the Queen and would keep Javier as the King until you had returned."

"You all knew I would come back?" I felt shocked, and very honored. "I didn't even know for sure that I would come back.. I mean.." I was almost at a loss for words. "I've always hoped to be able to come back and see Javier, but I never heard back from him..and I never knew if I would be able to come back here for sure.."

"Well," he said, as he stood up straight again, "we all knew you would. Besides, there will always be time for more Kings and Queens later." His eyes flickered to somewhere behind my head, but I ignored it. "Javier was the only one who was ever afraid you wouldn't return."

"_Yes_, I was." A recognizable voice came from directly behind me. It startled me, and I quickly spun around to face the person standing behind me.

There was the older bartender from before, and beside him, stood Javier, the person I'd come all this way to see.

I think speechless is the best word to describe how I felt.

"Katey..." he began, "I'm so sorry I couldn't write you." Javier held my hands in his, rubbing them carefully in his own. "The government had stopped us from being able to spent out any mail.. we were only allowed to receive." My heart melted. He hadn't forgotten me. "By the time we were able to sent letters out again I had stopped getting letters from you.. I thought you had moved on.." Javier's voice trailed off and I let out a sob.

"No, no, I didn't. I never did!" If I were so enveloped in the conversation, I probably would have noticed that we had begun to gather a small crowd. Those around us who didn't remember me, or never knew me, were quickly being whispered what had happened by those who knew our story, from either being around at the time, or from being told it themselves. I didn't know it, but Javier and I had become quite the legends at La Rosa Negra.

The crowd steadily grew as the intensity of our reunion grew. "I couldn't possibly have, Javier."

"I'm so, so sorry."

"Me too." I began to relax, and I could see Javier let out a long breath in front of me. He ran a hand through his hair and spoke again. "I've missed you so much, Katey." He gave me a nervous, but promising smile.

"I've missed you too." I smiled back, and basked in the relief that flooded in with his comment. Javier dropped my hands and slowly slid one around my waist, and the other into my hair. He pulled me into him and I let him.

"I'm so glad you came back," he whispered in my ear, quiet enough so that just I could hear him over the noise of the others around us. "I love you." Then he kissed me.

I don't think I've ever felt so much emotion and passion in a single action before. At the time, I thought that night with Javier in the tent on the beach was the best moment of my life, but it wasn't when compared to this sweet, sweet reunion. Maybe I'll consider it my _second_ favorite moment from now on.

Our moment however, was interrupted by the sound of cheering, and funnily enough, cat-calls. All around us in the club, people had stopped to applaud us. I guess we really had become quite the legend. Javier and I looked around at everyone, smiling, and clinging tightly to each other. We laughed, and the music became louder again as everyone continued dancing.

With our foreheads and noses touching, Javier spoke, no, almost _breathed _the question, "would you like to dance, Katey?"

"Absolutely." We stepped out onto the dance floor.

From somewhere behind us, someone yelled, "The Queen of La Rosa Negra is back!" A circle formed around us and we began to let ourselves feel the music. It was my first time dancing in since I last left Havana, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.


End file.
